


Degradation; A Necessity

by ClownheadMcFucker



Category: Dune - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Choking, Degradation, Fingering, Insults, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scars, Scratching, Sex for Favors, Spit As Lube, Voyeurism, breath play, cannot believe im using that tag in the good year of our lord 2020 but yeah, dub con cuz piter just wants some spice and the baron is making him get horny for it, dubcon, spitting, thats the most fitting tag lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClownheadMcFucker/pseuds/ClownheadMcFucker
Summary: “I feel like degrading you today, Piter '' is what the Baron had said to his mentat when he arrived in his office that morning.As if you don’t do that daily, Piter had thought, knowing that what the Baron had in mind was guaranteed to be worse than his usual torment
Relationships: Vladimir Harkonnen/Piter de Vries
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Degradation; A Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe there are no English fic for these two, guess I'm gonna have to fix that myself *sweats* lol
> 
> This is pretty nasty and unwholesome, but if you're looking for anything involving either of these two then I imagine you know what you're getting into. 
> 
> ~Enjoy

The Baron Harkonnen currently sat in one of his decadent, oversized suspensor chairs, sinking warmly into its plush upholstery. 

Piter stood before him, cold. 

With his tunic, sash, and shoes long since abandoned to another part of the room, the chill of the dark tiled floor had been steadily seeping into his pale flesh. For a week now, the Baron had denied Piter so much as a granule of melange to feed his addiction. It was a little game he liked to play now and again to watch Piter unravel a little more each day with withdrawal. A week was the limit to the game though, any more and Piter’s skill as a mentat might be negatively affected; too distracted by his need to function. 

A distracted mentat was useless, but a desperate one… 

A desperate one was good. 

For all Piter’s usual foul arguments and snide comments, not a single refusal could be made by someone as desperate as he. 

He was at the Baron’s mercy to play with, to _degrade_ , as he’d said. 

“Such a hideous body for such a pretty head, it’s a good thing you normally hide it,” the Baron said. 

The hideousness that the Baron spoke of was not in regards to the shape of Piter’s body– which was as slender and effeminate as his face– but of the things on his body which marked the type of life he had led in his years. The myriad of scars that littered Piter’s chest and abdomen which the Baron poked and prodded at, each one uniquely hideous indeed. He had been running his hands up and down Piter for a good few minutes, dipping the tips of his fat fingers into those scars which were concave, sliding his manicured nails against the edges of those which were raised, pushing and picking at them as if he hoped the old wounds might reopen and spill their gore out onto the floor. 

He touched at a particularly sensitive scar right at the hem of Piter’s loose pants, causing a shiver in Piter which only heightened the chill. 

The Baron grinned at the sight. And hoping to see it repeated, he deliberately dragged the sharp edge of a diamond ring from the point of the scar low on Piter’s belly slowly up to the base of his neck. It left a deep red welt in its wake and earned a powerful shiver from Piter which caused goosebumps to sprout all along his bare arms. 

The Baron’s hand stayed to rest at Piter’s neck as he laughed at the reaction he’d created. 

“You know, Piter, whenever you're here behaving so pathetically in front of me in order to get what you want, I often think it might be a delight to kill you myself someday. 

The statement didn’t shock Piter, since such comments were made to him near-daily, but the Baron’s hand suddenly gripping his throat did cause his eyes to widen. 

_He wont kill me! Not when he isn’t finished with me yet!_ Piter thought. 

It was a definitive, not a speculation, it was a _fact_ that he wouldn’t be killed here by the Baron’s hand. But even the mentat couldn’t help but let panic set in as the massive hand squeezed tighter and tighter. 

Piter grabbed at his employer’s thick wrist, sinking his fingers into the copious amount of flesh. The Baron’s grin widened as Piter squirmed under his crushing grip, the long fingers of Piter’s two hands not even enough to wrap completely around his single wrist. He prolonged the agony for as much as he could, loosening the tips of his fingers just enough to stimulate the beginning of a reflexive gasp from Piter before curling them back into his thin little neck. The Baron was good at his own games. Just as he knew exactly how long he could keep spice from Piter, he knew how long he could keep air from him as well. 

As the Baron’s eyes bore into him, Piter’s own vision became spotted, his body twitching uncontrollably. He was aware that he was losing consciousness. 

_He won’t kill me!_

The Baron released him. 

Knees giving out, Piter crumbled to the hard floor. Coughing violently as he massaged his bruised neck. 

When the coughing ceased, The Baron snatched Piter’s hand away from his throat and forcefully bent it around, spitting into Piter’s open palm. 

Piter only noticed as the wet heat of it cooled at the edges, looking up at the Baron through hazy, questioning eyes. 

“I want you to masturbate yourself for me, Piter. You may use that.” 

Piter did not hide the disgust on his face as he used his dry hand to fish his flaccid cock out from his pants, being careful not to let the small pool of saliva in his hand spill off. 

The Baron waved one of his large hands, gesturing for Piter to scoot back “give me a good view, I want to see all of you without having to crane my neck!” 

Piter rolled his eyes as he slid back across the polished floor where he began stroking his cock. He winced at his own cold, wet hand, trying to spread the spit around when a gleeful laugh erupted from the seated man before him. 

“Oh no, my dear Piter. I suppose I wasn't specific enough,” he laughed again. “ _inside_ yourself, Piter,” he said “ _inside_.” 

Piter growled audibly as his hand stalled. Looking down at himself in anger and disgust, having now wasted what little (inadequate) lubricant he had to begin with. 

He supposed he had no choice but to discard his pants now as well, seeing no practical way to keep them on while keeping himself on display. 

It occurred to him as he removed them that it may be the first time he was entirely nude in the Baron’s presence. They’d seen one another in various states of partial undress while engaging in such activities before, but this was new, and he hated it. 

He seethed with hatred as he looked down on his distorted reflection in the tile floor. Hating the man before him, hating the completeness of his nudity, the coldness of the floor, the sensation of his fingers inside himself. 

Unlike most people, Piter’s preferences for sex did not revolve around penetration, instead, they revolved entirely around pain. And while he did enjoy receiving it as much as he did giving it, he preferred it be on his own terms. 

This situation met none of his terms. 

Piter had pushed his finger in only deep enough to prod at his prostate, massaging it now with some degree of pleasure and a larger degree of discomfort. The coldness of the skin on his fingers made the inside of himself feel particularly hot, burning even, in contrast. 

“Look me in the eye, Piter. I’d like to watch you cum without touching your cock, and I want you to be looking at me,” the Baron said. 

Though it would be hypocritical to curse the man as a depraved pervert, Piter did so anyway, glaring into his little black eyes. 

It seemed that light was permanently shimmering and glistening off the Baron’s bejeweled fingers, but his eyes, so heavily shadowed beneath the fullness of his face, were forever dull. Piter thought they looked like two black holes pierced into the surrounding whiteness of his skin. 

He was licking his lips now, admiring the sight of his handiwork on Piter’s body. The slowly darkening bruises on his neck, and the long scratch down his front, dotted here and there with a bit of blood which had seeped to the surface. But it wasn’t enough for Piter to be lazily rolling a single finger inside himself as he was. 

“More.” The Baron said, humming as he rubbed his own clothed erection. 

Piter sighed as he forced a second finger inside himself. Despite his eagerness to cum and end this ridiculous activity, he resented the way his cock twitched in response to the dry burn. 

He had been building up a decent rhythm with two fingers, feeling his cock become more fully erect when the Baron broke his concentration yet again. 

“More, Piter, more! I want to see you _open_.” 

Piter didn’t bother to conceal his sounds of frustration, groaning and hissing through his teeth, muttering to himself and cursing the man in front of him. All of which only brought the Baron greater pleasure. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fit a third finger in without tearing himself, but having no choice, he began pushing. 

He could barely fit them in to the first knuckle, but he _needed_ them to go further if this was ever going to end. He wrapped his other hand around his body to try to help stretch himself open, pulling aggressively at the flesh surrounding his entrance. His dull nails scraping and his bony joints knocking together from the tightness as he mercilessly pushed into himself. 

He huffed and the Baron laughed. 

“Oh so melodramatic, you are Piter! I know that ass of yours isn’t so virginal.” 

He couldn't think up a retort to that comment over the discomfort and pain and so he simply snarled, earning another amused laugh from the Baron. 

Piter’s erection was waning now, and it took effort not to reach out and stroke it back to life. 

He feared how long this may go. 

At some point during this awful little game, he had let his mouth fall open, panting, nearly drooling. He moaned with each light thrust of his fingers, entirely for the Baron’s benefit, of course. Piter hoped if he could turn the fat man on enough that he might finish before himself and then simply kick him out of the room without expecting him to finish. 

But it didn’t seem likely. 

Despite all his Harkonnen hedonism, the Baron appeared very much in control. 

Though he had been languidly palming his erection the entire time, and occasionally dragging his fat tongue out to lath at his lips, there was not a single bead of sweat on the man, and he was still grinning. Always grinning. 

At the very least, Piter wasn’t quite so cold as he had been earlier in the evening. The tile directly beneath him warmed by the presence of his body, the effort of his tedious masturbation building up the slightest sheen of sweat across thighs, chest, and forehead. 

At last He could feel himself getting close and he desperately chased the sensation as he rolled his hips, rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, trying to encourage his body to finish faster. 

His body doubled over with the effort, his abdomen contracting tightly. But he made sure to keep his head angled up the entire time. 

Looking the Baron in the eye as he’s been instructed. 

He heard a deep hum rumble through the man, “go on then.” 

And as if commanded, Piter came. 

The orgasm sent a jolt through him as if he’d been electrocuted. His release a shock of white against the black tile. 

In a pose of exhaustion which passed as a gesture of subservience, Piter leaned his warm forehead against the cold floor, his long hair fanning out around him. 

“Excellent, Piter, excellent. Do you feel properly degraded? Do you hate yourself?” 

Piter tilted his head just enough to glare at the man through strands of hair and heavily lidded eyes. 

“I hate _you_.” 

The Baron laughed, “as you should.” 

The Baron Harkonnen jostled off his chair and began leaving the room, “you’ll find your allowance of spice waiting for you in your chamber by the time you've recovered your strength.” 

“Thank you, Baron.” 

“You’re most welcome, my dear little mentat,” the Baron said as he left Piter alone with the returning cold of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> completely random, but I'm in awe that the word count on this somehow turned out to be the year the Lynch Dune came out wow lol, that's a blessing or something idk man lol


End file.
